Page 2 of Thalen

A quick look down the aisle in front of me, the one with diapers, baby food, and other miscellaneous stuff such as trash bags, showed me a young guy who’d crawled as far into the shelf of Pampers as he possibly could to hide, holding a phone that he held facing outward. No doubt he’d muted the sound so the robber couldn’t hear the 911 dispatcher after he’d called, hoping she’d hear what was going on.

The thief ran out the door just as sirens sounded, approaching. There was a squeal of tires as his ride pulled out in a hurry.

“They’re gone,” Tracy said, his voice sounding oddly calm and flat.

“Thank God!” the young guy said, clambering up from his hiding spot. He pressed a button on the side of his phone before placing it up to his face, confirming my supposition. “Hi, yeah, sorry, I didn’t want him to hear you and find where I was tryin’ to hide. Uh uh. Okay.” He disconnected the call. “911says we need to all stay here to give statements.”

I merely went into a sitting position, holding onto my gallon of milk. “I think I’m gonna get a new job,” I said.

Tracy laughed, no humor in it. “You and me both, brother. As soon as I give the cops my statement, I’m locking up and going home and not coming back.”

“I need to pay for my milk.’

He sighed.

“I’ll ring you up first.”

“And me, I came in to buy diapers and wipes.”

“And you,” Tracy agreed as a police car pulled in.

Tracy had the right idea, I decided. I’d pay for my milk, write a note letting the boss know I couldn’t do this job anymore, and go home to look through online job postings. Flirty grannies and folks wanting to pay for gas were one thing. Robbers were another.

I closed my eyes, trying to calm my frantically beating heart.

This would never happen on New Haven. Maybe I should think about taking the plunge and apply for a homestead of my own, like I’ve always dreamed.

2

EVAN

“I’m coming!” I called out to the person knocking on my door. I put the video I was watching on pause and went to answer the door.

“Mr. Morales?" the woman on the other side of the door asked me.

“That’s me,” I replied, quickly taking in her attire and the folder she held in her hand. I knew without even looking at the ID she wore on a lanyard around her neck that she was a social worker. Growing up in the system, I’d learned to spot one a mile away.

She smiled warmly. “I’m Lucinda Baines, and I’m here because you applied to become a foster parent, with a view to adopt and were approved three weeks ago.”

I grinned back at her. I most certainly had done that, applying seven months ago, the very next day after thankfully landing a better job three days after the robbery. I’d made up my mind to make all my dreams come true, starting with becoming a dad. Kid first, and then once I had a placement, I was going to apply for my farmland in New Haven, as they’d joined the Mylos treaty thing with our world and everyone knew the Mylos were allowed human foster kids that they then adopted. I’d even looked it up to be sure that someone with a foster kid they were wanting to adopt had been allowed to take the kid with them before the adoption was finalized, and found three separate cases almost immediately.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied.

“I’m here because once you were notified of approval, you selected a child from one of our public appeals.”

“Right! Please come in!” I urged her, standing to one side.

“I’ve brought Jason’s file with me to go over with you, but first, I noticed that you updated your paperwork indicating that you were looking to move out of state. As you know, foster children can be placed out of state, but there’s an additional process for that, which is not always successful. The odds of success are better due to the length of time it’s taken to place Jason. He’s been available for adoption since he was two years old. Personally, I find his bi-colored eyes quite striking, but many find it unnerving, enough so that even finding a long term foster home proved problematic, and so he’s been at the children’s home since he was six, and he’s about to turn ten in a few weeks.”

“Oh! I’m not moving to another state,” I hastily explained. “I’m going to apply down at the Mylos-Dragonii Center for a farm on New Haven. The treaty allows foster kids being adopted to travel with their adopting parent, as well as for foster children to be placed with adopters out there.”

She stared at me for a long moment. “You’re going to apply for a farm parcel on New Haven, the Dragonii-human colony world.”

I nodded. “That’s right.”

“And you wish to take Jason with you.”

“Uh huh.”